


Regarding Crucible.

by Rodyn



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 16:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22934521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodyn/pseuds/Rodyn
Summary: (Before Marauders #7, references pulled from X-Men (2020) #7)Storm and Callisto.  Rivals.  Allies.  Sisters.   Storm asks Callisto about regaining her powers through traditional means on the island.
Kudos: 6





	Regarding Crucible.

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written a prompt like this in some time and the new X-Books inspired me

“They’re considering you, you know.” The Wind-rider known as ‘Ororo’ spoke from the side of her mouth as she passed over what appears to be a bowl of kettle corn to a woman wearing an eyepatch. A scraggly, aged relic of a time that is ultimately irrelevant to the new ‘normal’. 

Her name would be Callisto and her nature compelled her to shovel handfuls of the snack into her maw as she delivered her retort. 

“Not interested.”

“Oh, I’m quite aware.” Ororo would try to flick the skivs of corn off of Callisto’s weathered cheeks. She was aware of Callisto’s disinterest in feeding the council’s bloodsport. “However, I’m unsure if I know the reason why you show a lack of interest.”

“It ain’t special.” Callisto had been quick to respond.

“You would think an arena to prove your worth would be in the Morlock curriculum.”

“You would think you’d invest in followin’ Morlock tradition, Storm.” That response had drawn smirks across both faces of the...compatriots? Colleagues? Whatever the case, Storm had been amused at Callisto’s dodginess around the topic of Crucible for the Morlock chieftain. “Like I said. It ain’t special. I’m good enough without my powers, always have been.”

“It’s less about regaining those powers, Callisto.” Storm spoke as she took the empty bowl of kettle corn to refill. “Think of the idea as...well, larvae cocooning into their next stage of evolution. Metamorphosis. Shedding flesh scorned by those who would see us harmed and being reborn at your peak.”

“Don’t need it.” Again, more dodginess from the rugged knife-slinger. No eye-contact given to Storm this time, Callisto had found more interest in filing out the bottom stub of a cigar she kept in her vest-pocket instead. “The suggestion that this body is less than what I’m capable of is very ‘old-school’ of you. Want me to call you ‘filthy upworlder’ next?”

“You know that isn’t what I --” Callisto had cut Storm off by pointing the butterfly knife at Storm. 

“I’ll wear the scars that this world deems fitting of me, nothing more complex than that. If anyone wanted me with my powers back I’m sure mutantkind’s greatest minds would come up with an alternative outside of stuffing me into a golden egg.”

She hadn’t been intimidated by the blade at her forehead, Storm pushing it to the side with the tip of her index. “There’s that distrust showing again, Callisto.” Amused, the Morlock flicked the blade back into her vest and worked a lighter out instead.

“Putting trust in Charles Xavier and his grand design is a fool’s game, Ororo.”

“But this isn’t about Charles.”

Flicking the lighter on to try and light the cigar, only to be thwarted by the...ominous bolt of lightning that chose to light it instead. A thumbs up would be Storm’s reward for being a helping hand. 

“Truth be told, I’d put my chips on Apocalypse over Charles. Honor goes a long stretch of road, Ororo, and I’ll throw myself at the former’s side cause he respects honor. But like I said; don’t need my powers an’ I don’t need some philosophical horseshit fed to me how this ain’t the best of me.”

Storm and Callisto’s game of discussion had been a recurring trend ever since they had managed to set foot on the mutant nation of Krakoa. One a high-ranking elite amongst a diverse council of mutant diplomats and the other...well, Callisto had been unsure since she set foot and swore loyalty to the grand design of this island. The kids in her alley had been happy and that was enough for her to keep things moving. 

Returning to her colleague with their conversational snack replenished it would be Storm that would make the next comment. 

“Would you allow other Morlocks to participate?”

“Ain’t my call. Sarah would be the first. Hot, angry blood aching to be more than just a girl struggling on a long-busted inhibitor.” Callisto threw her hand back into the bowl mix. “Thus we hit the issue of my position as a leader. They’re...not gonna make any sort of jump until I make it first. Kids’re bein’ cautious, especially with those responsible for murdering us in swaths are now our new leaders.”

A sigh escaping Ororo’s voice, and she sat the bowl to the side to stand at the balcony railing of her home. “So you’re forcing a test on them. Renounce their culture in the alley as a means of being themselves. You know that wouldn’t--”

“I don’t know what I’m doin’, Storm.” Callisto would blurt in between a small fit of coughing. “I’m...I’m here. My feet are on the ground, and I’m just playing the beats until I see something to...to attach to. Purpose. Find somethin’ to hang on before we run into the same shit.”

Ororo, keeping her focus to Callisto solely because she had been close to etching down another wall that the Morlock had put up.

“The people I hate are calling the shots, the fucker who killed babies for kicks is in a representative seat. My kids are scared but they know it’s better than the open season behind those gates. Sarah’s antsy, Erg’s practically at my neck to get himself back to normal, Caliban -- fuck, Ororo, I haven’t even FOUND Caliban through this ruckus. I’m treading a fine line of keeping my shit together before making a poor decisi--”

Callisto stops herself, her eye shooting up once she realized just how much had been said. Looking over to Ororo to see her reaction -- closed eyes that had been taking in her tobacco-charged rant from the beginning. 

She cursed beneath her breath and burned the cigar out on her glove.

“ ‘m leavin’, now. Didn’t mean to bring trouble.” 

But before the Morlock could even begin to make her way out of the door, Ororo stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder. The furrowed brows she used to mull over the content fed had been replaced with her now softened expression.

“You’re overthinking things, and that’s fine. You’re a protector and it’s...fine to feel that dread, but you can’t let it consume you. And you don’t have to work this out alone.”

Callisto hadn’t taken too well to the response -- her shoulder shrugging out of her grip before she made that beeline back out to leave. Callisto’s gloved hands twisting the knob of the door to part it open. 

“...don’t got too much of a choice on who my allies are anymore. I’m...give me some time, alright? All I’m askin. I won’t be like this forever and I wanna do this right for the kids I gotta feed.”

Ororo gave her nod of silent approval as Callisto departed. Their time together since their brief stint in a maximum security mutant prison had been better, but there were more questions to be asked between the two. 

Ororo would have to scold her about the cigarette ash against her carpet the next time they sought each other out, unfortunately.


End file.
